Call of the Wild
by Akiko Natsuko
Summary: I could just stay like this. It was a thought that had been cropping up more and more often, especially in the wake of Blackwater, and on mornings like this, it reached a crescendo.


It was the sun that woke Arthur that morning, the first rays peering over the ridge lightning on his face as he had been too tired to set up the tent last night. He regretted it now, groaning as he came awake, flinging a hand up to shield his eyes. It was early, and after a hard day or riding he could have slept for a few more hours, but he was awake now, and he knew from experience that he wouldn't get back to sleep. He dragged his hand down his face, grimacing as he felt the dirt beneath his fingers. He would need to have a wash down at the river before venturing back to camp. Otherwise, he would find himself dunked in a barrel faster than he could say 'hello'. He could also use a shave he realised as he ran his fingers over his chin, pausing as he remembered Eliza doing the same once upon a time and he yanked his fingers way. She'd always had a thing for facial hair – it was why he had always kept himself cleanshaven since that day because while they hadn't been exclusive in any sense of the world, she had been good to him. Better than he deserved really…

He definitely needed a shave.

Thankfully before he could get caught up in the past there was movement nearby, and for a moment his hand rested on his gun, before he heard a familiar snort, hot breath tickling his ear a split second before a bay nose filled his vision. The mare, a recent acquisition was more affectionate than his last horse, always happiest when he was lavishing her with attention, and she nudged him now, demanding his focus.

"Good girl," he murmured, patting the thin nose, a small smile tugging at his lips as she leant into his touch. Life was simpler like this – just him and the horse, surrounded by nothing but wilderness. Sure, there were travellers on the roads, and even from here he could make out the distant sound of a train passing by, but other than that he was alone.

_Free. _

However, as with all good things he knew that it couldn't last, and after a few minutes he sat up, pushing the mare back with a last pat and looking around. The campfire was down to embers, only a tiny spiral of smoke betraying his presence, and it was warm enough this morning that he didn't need to coax it back to life, summer finally creeping in on the heels of spring. It felt as though it had been a long time coming, especially after their time in the mountains and he tilted his face up to catch the light as the sun continued to creep above the horizon, feeling the heat seeping into night-chilled skin and sighing. It felt like a long time since he'd been able to just enjoy this moment. Waking in the camp, meant rousing to a cacophony of activity, usually with raised voices, as the group seemed incapable of starting the day without at least one argument.

_I could just stay like this. _It was a thought that had been cropping up more and more often, especially in the wake of Blackwater, and on mornings like this, it reached a crescendo. What made it worse was that it would be so easy, especially as he had spent nearly every day since they'd set up camp near Valentine out in the wilds. He knew this area now – he knew where to find herbs and edible plants, enough to supplement his hunting and keep enough medicine on hand to patch himself up. And he was learning the best times and places to hunt, like the small clearing on the far side of the ridge where the deer liked to gather during the heat of the day, and the narrow bend in the river where the fish and ducks came a little too close to land. Sure, there were dangers out here, and he had the scars to prove it, thinking of the diagonal scars on his shoulder where he had been a hair too slow in avoiding the cougar that had sprung at him, but they were manageable.

Sure, there would be times when he would need to venture into town for supplies, and he wouldn't have the camp funds to dip into, but he had been making enough from pelts to keep himself going so far, and it wasn't as though he would have much to buy out here. And he would face less trouble in the towns if he was just a lone rider passing through…

He snorted then, startling the horse who whinnied and pawed restlessly at the ground, unnerved by the strange noise. _Who am I kidding?_ As tempting as the thought was, he knew that nothing would come of it – not yet at least. As bad as the last few months had been, Dutch had always done right by him. Raising him and making sure that he had a reason to keep moving forward after Eliza and Issac, stopping his mind from wandering down darker routes, and his hand venturing to the bottle a little too often, and a few mistakes couldn't undo that kind of debt. There might be a time in the future where that would change, but it hadn't reached that point yet, and he sighed as he reluctantly tore his gaze away from the view. Even if he did go it alone, it wouldn't be as simple as all that – he had ridden with the gang long enough to be recognisable in his own right, and he knew that sometimes he just rubbed people up the wrong way, an edge that was softened by being around Dutch and the others.

No, for the foreseeable future at least his freedom was tied up with the gang, with the life that they were carving out for themselves. Maybe once matters were settled with the O'Driscolls, and Blackwater and the shadows it had cast had disappeared beyond the horizon he could revisit the idea of striking out on his own. Or if things went to hell again, he thought with a sigh, a doubt that he would never have considered in the past, but couldn't hide from anymore. At least this way he would have an out, a way to keep going, although as always when he thought like that, he couldn't help but wonder why he still thought that way. What kept him going, with his family and his possibility of a peaceful future buried six-feet under.

It was a question he had asked himself for years now, and he was still no closer to an answer. Mood thoroughly ruined he got to his feet, groaning as his back protested the night of sleeping on hard rock with only a thin bedroll between them, and he had to admit that sleeping in a proper bunk would be nice. He spent a couple of minutes rubbing out the kinks, before moving across to stamp out the last few embers in the fire, spreading out the ashes until it would be hard to tell that someone had camped here. There was no need to hide his tracks at the moment, but there was something satisfying about the routine that settled him, and he was in a somewhat better frame of mind as he rooted through the saddlebag for crackers and the fish he had cooked last night.

There were worse things in life he supposed than eating your breakfast in the fresh air with the world stretched out below you, lit up with the rising sun, and a home and family waiting for you. As always there was a pang at the thought of 'family', but that was what the gang was, it was the fights never became genuinely violent, and why they would risk their necks for one of their own. There were worse things to fight for, and worse reasons to keep going. And it wasn't as though he couldn't still have mornings like this, alone but for his horse and far away from civilisation, as there were still mouths to feed, and not enough cash to go around.

So, why was it still harder than he cared to admit to finish his meal and feed the horse, eking out every minute that he could by checking her hooves, and picking off flecks of mud, noting that he wasn't the only one in need of a good wash. However, there was only so long that he could delay and with a sigh, he swung himself up into the saddle, clicking his tongue to settle the mare as she shifted restlessly for a moment, pawing at the ground as though just as reluctant to leave as he was.

"Easy girl. Come on let's go home," he murmured once she had settled, sparing a last glance at his campsite, telling himself it was to make sure that he had erased all trace of his presence, but knowing that it was the deep-seated longing to stay that made him look back. And as he forced himself to turn away, gently nudging his horse into a gentle trot, he made himself a promise.

_One day._


End file.
